Comfort and Joy: A Smallville holiday tale
by President Luthor
Summary: As Christmas 2004 arrives in Smallville, Clark reflects on Lana's romance with Jason, a faltering friendship with Lex Luthor and the fallout of Pete's departure. Bruce Wayne visits, haunted by holidays of sorrow. Alfred reveals a past tragedy.


Background: It is Christmas in Smallville, 2004. Lana is with Jason, Lois Lane is in town, "Unsafe" Alicia hasn't shown up yet – and Bruce Wayne pays a brief visit to the wintry Kent household! Baggage and trust issues are supposed to be checked at the Kent door. The holidays bring people together, but this festive occasion awakens past tragedies … and reveals future warnings. A short story for the holiday season.

Prerequisite: My Smallville tales with Bruce Wayne have an internal continuity. I refer to Smallville's actual events as needed, but dramatic license prevails over strict canon. You've read "Vigilante" at least, but if you've read "Archer" too, that's even better!

COMFORT AND JOY

Lana Lang, dressed in a mauve Nordic sweater and black slacks, warmly embraced Jason as they shared a joke. The Kents invited their closest friends for a Christmas party. Martha rushed out to the dinner table with her 'Jolly Snowman' apron and matching oven mitts, bearing a stuffed turkey. They had also invited Pete Ross. (He sent his regrets.) With his parents' divorce still fresh in his mind, Pete chose not to dwell on his disrupted home life and he readily accepted an offer to go snowboarding in Whistler this December with his new extreme sports buddy, Oliver Queen.

Clark didn't expect that Pete would visit Smallville for the holidays, since their friendship had been on an uncertain footing for months. Jason and Jonathan mourned the possible loss of the entire NHL season and complained about the greed and animosity surrounding the high-stakes labour dispute, but Clark's concerns were more immediate.

Seeing Lana – the only girl he believed he truly loved – effortlessly flirt with Jason Teague made him jealous. He hoped that no one would notice his awkwardness, but to his dismay someone already did. Lois quietly approached him, with two mugs of mulled apple cider in her hands.

"You know, _Smallville_," Lois smirked. "This is none of my business, but I think you should wake up to the facts. The Lana ship has sailed, buddy. That ocean liner of love has left the port."

Clark tugged Lois aside, out of range of the dining room. "You're right about one thing: it 'is' none of your business!" His reddened face betrayed that Lois had hit her mark … again.

"The New Year is upon us, Clark," Lois continued, unfazed by Clark's stubbornness. She looked at Lana and Jason, who were teasing each other over the dinner table. "It's not all about you, Clark. Lana is happy with Jason. Get over it! If you're as close to Lana as you say you are, then why aren't you happy for her?"

"I am happy for her," Clark muttered unconvincingly. His eyes avoided looking directly at Lana, who seemed to notice Clark's aloofness this evening.

Lois abruptly handed him the mug of cider. "Then eat, drink and be merry, Clark Kent! It's time for company and good cheer. And I, for one, am not going to allow your grumpiness to ruin a good Christmas party." She wrinkled a surprised nose at the homemade cider's spiciness. "Wow, Martha's cider has some kick to it!" Before Clark could respond, Lois joined Jonathan and Jason at the table and quickly got into the debate over the NHLPA's luxury tax proposal. In her eyes, it was designed to fail and the hockey season was as good as lost.

Chloe was stuck in the rush hour commuter traffic from Metropolis and called to say that she would be there in time for the after-dinner socializing. Clark remained relatively quiet, while Lois seemed to create a seamless conversation that combined Jason's thoughts about collegiate football (too much money spent on recruiting and not enough on players' scholastic achievement) with Jonathan's views on the environment (heavy penalties on polluters – read: Luthor – were in order) and Lana's impressions of Parisian urban planning (she felt Metropolis could develop stricter zoning and preservation by-laws). Lois was Chloe's cousin … but she was bold, brash and had the tact of stampeding herd of elephants. Yet, she was clearly the centre of attention at the dinner table. He could not deny that Lois Lane knew how to light up a room.

While Jonathan retired to the living room to show Jason some old photos from his football glory days, Clark hurriedly ate the last of his pumpkin pie and sat on the stairs, away from Lois and Martha's impromptu carolling near the Christmas tree. Pete was gone, Lana was now with Jason and high school graduation would be upon him in a few months. So much had changed, and he was having difficulty accepting that. He wasn't even sure if he and Lex could remain as good friends.

After Lana helped Martha with the dishes, she found Clark on the staircase. He's keeping his own counsel – again, she sighed to herself.

"Clark," Lana began, "is everything okay? You don't seem like yourself."

"I'm fine," Clark said. "I'm alright." He couldn't bring himself to confide in her about his concerns: Jason, Lex's changing behaviour, and the escalating tension between LuthorCorp and Wayne Enterprises. He believed he could never confide in her about his secret. It was necessary – to protect her, he concluded.

"Alright?" Lana challenged him. "You've hardly said a word to me this whole party."

Clark cleared his throat. "It's Pete." His friendship with Pete was a concern, though Lana's romance with Jason had become a growing issue with him.

Lana suspected that Clark was still trying to come to terms with her new romance, but she felt it was better not to press the issue under his own roof. "I know that Pete would want to be here, if he could. But with the divorce, you know –" There was an uncomfortable silence; they couldn't really know. Pete watched helplessly as his parents' marriage disintegrated before his eyes. Who could prepare for an event like that?

A doorbell ring interrupted their uneasy conversation. When Martha opened the door, a tall, imposing figure in a fine woollen overcoat and royal blue scarf beamed at them.

"Martha Kent, the classiest lady this side of the Mason-Dixon line," Bruce Wayne kissed her hand. Martha gave him a big hug, and accepted his rather large box of presents.

Jonathan clasped Bruce on his shoulders and shook his hand warmly. "What brings you to our little corner of Kansas, Mr. Wayne?"

"Please, call me Bruce," Bruce replied. Clark's spirits changed almost instantly when he spotted his friend. Bruce gave him a bear hug and studied him carefully. He sensed that Clark was troubled by something. "How are you, Clark? Should I tell the editor of the Gotham Times that you'll be looking for a job there soon?" Clark was about to give him a lame, evasive answer when someone pushed him aside.

"I think that editor doesn't have to worry about Clark for a long time to come!" Lois blurted, and she shouldered her way in front of Clark and seized Bruce's hand. "I'm Lois Lane. Clark never told me he knew the chairman of the Wayne Foundation."

"You never asked," Clark quipped. "You might want to watch yourself around Bruce, Lois. He does have the reputation of a lady-killer, you know."

Lois rolled her eyes at Clark's unnecessary caution. "Oh please! Army brat here! If I can push off the propositions of a platoon of Marines, then one – umm, extremely handsome – Gotham City socialite is nothing to fear." She mouthed "We'll talk later" to Bruce, before she left for the tempting dessert tray.

"Bruce?" Jason mumbled. "It's, uh, good to see you." He shook Bruce's hand, but it seemed to be a formality – with no real warmth.

"Jason Teague," Bruce stated coolly. "How is your mother?"

"Nothing's changed on that front," Jason replied crisply. Lana's brow furrowed because it seemed that they knew each other. "I assume you've already met –"

"Miss Lana Lang," Bruce beamed. He gently kissed her cheek. "It's a pleasure, as always. How was Paris?"

"Enchanting," Lana smiled. "I'm sorry we couldn't rendezvous in July. Alfred's telegram mentioned that you were going to be at WayneTech Europe for a week?"

"I was looking into unrelated business," Bruce answered curtly; his gaze never left Jason. "I'm still looking into that matter, even now."

Jason, visibly flustered by Bruce's surprise visit, checked his watch. "Well, it's been fun, but we've got to see Lana's aunt in Metropolis this weekend. The traffic is going to be a mess, thanks to this snowfall."

Lana gasped. "Oh my! The time just flies!" She seized upon the opportunity to extract herself from the obvious Teague-Wayne tension. "We were going to take her to the Christmas tree lighting at Luthor Commerce Square tomorrow night. Lex got us some VIP seats in the corporate tent."

"I wonder if Lex's VIP list includes Tony Zucco and the elusive Jazzman," Lois sneered under her breath. Clark pretended not to hear her, but he figured that Chloe told her cousin everything about the sordid mob connections to the construction of Lex's corporate plaza.

Jason said his farewells to the Kents and Lois. When he approached Bruce, he nodded briefly.

"Bruce," he said grudgingly, "we should talk sometime. There are … things … we need to sort out."

Bruce placed a firm hand on his shoulder in greeting, but his grip was anything but friendly. "We'll talk sooner than you may realize, Mr. Teague. You have my word on that. Happy holidays to you -- and Genevieve."

When they left, Clark closed the door and took Bruce aside. "I know you're going to say it's none of my business … but what's with the third-degree treatment of Jason?"

"A pair of medieval manuscripts – dated from the era of the Cathar heretics in France – was stolen one year ago," Bruce explained, "from the Martha Wayne wing of Gotham's Museum of Antiquities. I tracked its disappearance to a ring of art thieves in Prague, but the trail ran cold until six months ago. I expect to confirm my suspicions of a Teague link to the thefts within the next few weeks." He glared, without emotion, outside the window. Clark saw that Bruce cradled the tarnished locket with his parents' wedding photo in his hands.

"It wasn't just a theft," Bruce said. "The museum wing remains one of my mother's few legacies. In my eyes, it was her shrine. With each denial, the Teague family desecrates her memory. I don't know what value those manuscripts have for the Teagues, but I'll find out. Genevieve Teague will answer for defiling my mother's legacy. If Jason is also tied to the theft … so will he."

Clark gulped, nervous about Bruce Wayne's ominous pledge. Bruce was one of his closest friends, but he was also one of the most powerful men in the world. There were moments when Bruce seemed as relentless as Lex Luthor, but he understood that Bruce would always be driven to preserve the legacy of his slain parents.

Martha interrupted them, bearing a plate of turkey, cranberry sauce and stuffing. "You simply cannot leave, not before you at least share some Christmas dinner with us!"

Bruce seemed hesitant, but Clark's expression pleaded with him to stay – if only for a short time.

"I've not been able to properly celebrate the holidays since I was eight," Bruce said, "but I would love to share a dinner with the Kents." For one brief moment, he thought he could feel happiness this holiday season. The Kents were so eager to welcome him into their home.

_Bang! Bang!_

_A shriek, the clatter of Martha Wayne's broken pearl necklace._

_An unknown killer flees in the shadows. _

_The sirens._ _The loneliness._

He was a Wayne: holidays were anything but joyful.

Clark placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Stay awhile, even if it's just to have something to eat." Bruce sat on the couch, smiling at his plate of turkey on the coffee table. This is what families do during the holidays.

The door opened again. This time, there was tall, wiry man in a navy blue chauffeur's uniform jacket. A few silver hairs peeked from beneath the driver's cap.

"Master Bruce knows that guests always show their gratitude," Alfred grinned. Jonathan warmly hugged the former British soldier, who then playfully waltzed with Martha.

"I told you Mr. Pennyworth was a better dancer than you, Jonathan!" Martha laughed. The room soon filled with lively conversation about Bruce's travels to Nepal, Japan and Indonesia. Bruce talked about how he tried to meet Lana in Paris, but he explained that the demands of running a multinational corporation prevented him from doing so. Clark knew better: Bruce had spent the summer tracking the stolen manuscripts across Europe. But how could one of America's most prominent citizens travel across a continent without being recognized?

Clark shoved aside his questions when his mother pulled out an old, wooden music box. "It's been in my family since the Forties," she said. When she opened the box, Lois gasped. "It's so pretty," she grinned.

The box held a tiny skating rink, with two young lovers skating, hand-in-hand, around a Christmas tree. The box played a chirpy version of "I'll Be Home for Christmas." Martha began to sing the carol, and then Lois, Jonathan and Clark joined her. They didn't expect Bruce to sing along, but they had hoped that they could bring him some holiday cheer.

Oddly, Bruce became more uncomfortable. He looked warily at Alfred, whose spirits seemed to sink with each note from the music box. The butler stared at the tiny young skaters, happily spinning around the wintry fir tree. Alfred was one of the bravest men Clark knew: the man had fought in the Falklands War, spied on the Kremlin and protected Bruce from those who sought to harm him. This night, Clark thought he saw a tear in the corner of Alfred's eye.

"Alfred," Clark asked. "What's wrong?"

Alfred stared sadly at the little skaters, who seemed so carefree. He hadn't been carefree in twenty years. "Mr. and Mrs. Kent, I thank you for your hospitality and I apologize if I had caused any offense …" His voice trailed off. Clark and the Kents seemed confused.

"Alfred," Bruce tried to console him. "You don't have to say any more." Alfred was his father figure in all but name, and to see him in anguish tore Bruce apart inside. Alfred retreated from the dining room and took a seat beside the Christmas tree. Lois noticed that Alfred kept staring at the music box and she carefully closed the lid. "I don't know all the words to the song either," Lois shrugged. Clark was ready to admonish her, but Bruce indicated with his eyes that he appreciated Lois' small, merciful gesture.

The Christmas doorbell rang again. Chloe burst into the room with two armfuls of gifts. "Oh my, it's Bruce Wayne … at the Kent farm!" She gave the billionaire a clumsy hug around his neck. She waved giddily at the Kents, who didn't seem to be in the holiday spirit.

"Now, Alfred," Chloe blurted, when she saw Alfred beside the tree, "you promised me that when we met next time, you would teach me those salsa steps you picked up at Mardi Gras in Rio. It's time to cut the carpet with yours truly!" Alfred had become one of her closest friends, partly due to a secret alliance they had forged when Lionel Luthor threatened to destroy Oliver Queen's corporate empire and use those assets to fund a conquest of Wayne Enterprises. They took opposite sides on the recent Helena Bertinelli affair, but they always managed to look past their differences. She knew something was wrong when Alfred didn't appear happy to see her. Alfred's saddened expression confirmed her fears.

"Alfred?" Chloe asked. "What's wrong?"

Alfred gently picked up the music box and opened it again. He focused his attention on the little skater girl, who wore tiny black mittens, a woollen grey overcoat and a ponytail tucked under a cute grey beret. He graciously accepted a mug of cider from Martha.

"After I returned from Argentina," Alfred began, "I had enough of a soldier's business, and I was ready for a new life in America – one of duty and service to the Waynes of Gotham. But I had debts to repay to MI6, and I took one last mission for Queen and country: rescuing Soviet defectors from Lubyanka, the KGB's dreaded prison, and taking them to freedom in the West. The things I've done …" Alfred stared at his hands, which had taken many lives in service to his Queen.

"That was a long time ago," Bruce insisted. "You couldn't have known that Svetlana –" He stopped himself, fearing he had revealed too much. Alfred seemed re-energized at the mention of the name.

Alfred sat up in the couch. "Svetlana was on the Soviet Union's figure skating team. Doe-like eyes, and hair made of chocolate silk. I saw her twirling on a pond in Moscow. The wind chilled me to the bone, my leather shoes were soaked in the snow … but I was under her spell."

"Oh, how romantic!" Martha gushed. "Don't you think so, Jonathan?"

"Nice guys do finish first," Jonathan beamed. Alfred was a man of integrity, and the butler's distaste for all things Luthor convinced Jonathan that his own instincts were right about Lionel and Lex.

Alfred sipped his cider again. "The next few weeks were … intense. She never left my side, and I never left hers. She told me later that she was sent there by the KGB to entrap a certain British agent who was rumoured to be planning a defectors' prison break. After I freed the two defectors, we fled Moscow, with the KGB agents on our trail. They were relentless. People gave their lives to hide us, to bring us closer to home. We made it to East Berlin, and –"

Before Alfred could continue, Bruce interrupted him. "And, the rest is history," Bruce stated. He didn't want Alfred to complete the story, believing that he was sparing his butler from further sorrow.

"So, where is this Svetlana?" Chloe wondered. "She sounds like an incredible woman! A figure-skating KGB double agent – now there's a story I'd love to tell."

Alfred watched the pretty little skater with the black mittens and grey beret, and his brief joy evaporated. His voice became softer. "One defector made it over the Berlin Wall, as our friends in the West dragged him over the gate's edge. A watchtower guard fired one shot, and killed the second defector instantly. Svetlana stumbled, but I told her to keep moving. My friends on the other side seized me at the Wall. They should have taken her! I held Svetlana's hands and struggled to pull her up. _'I love you'_, she told me. I heard a loud popping sound, like a firecracker. We made it over the Wall, into West Berlin. She wore this white blouse – but I noticed this red spot on her back …"

"No," Lois said, covering her mouth in disbelief. She watched the handsome male skater, in a blue overcoat and red scarf, playfully spinning around the tree with the girl skater: his beloved Svetlana.

"She was free," Alfred said – it was barely audible. "We were to be married in Vienna on Christmas Eve. Svetlana was the love of my life, and she died in my arms." He flicked the single tear away from his eye. His heart was broken, but he would not show any weakness in Bruce's presence. "Master Bruce, I shall keep the car warm for our return to Metropolis International. Please, enjoy the party." He nodded politely to the Kents. "I apologize once more for disrupting your Christmas party, Master Clark, Mr. and Mrs. Kent." He abruptly left the house and stepped into the Kansas snow.

"I believe this is the point where I say: _'Go after him, Chloe'_," Lois prompted. Chloe agreed, and hurriedly put on her jacket and raced out of the house. She found Alfred, emotionally spent, leaning against the Wayne limousine.

"Please come back inside," Chloe pleaded. "It's the holidays! I am not going to let you spend it out in the cold while everyone else is celebrating!"

"It should have been me, Chloe," Alfred lamented. "Not Svetlana. I should have … I could have –" He couldn't complete his sentence. He had cradled Svetlana in his arms. _You're free now, darling_, he whispered as her life-force seeped away at the Berlin Wall. "She did nothing wrong, and I have a lifetime of sins to answer for."

Chloe put a comforting hand on Alfred's arm. "You may be a butler now, but you're just like everybody else. You have the right feel pain, to mourn."

Alfred took off his chauffeur's cap. He could see the cold vapours of his breath as they lingered in the evening air: another reminder of one wintry day in Moscow, when a figure skater taught him how to be happy. "That's where you're wrong, I'm afraid," Alfred replied. "I lost that right the day Master Bruce lost his parents in Crime Alley. He had nothing – nothing – to look forward to, can you understand? Wealth, power and prestige mean little when those you care about most are torn from you. Lex is, regretfully, already on that lonely path."

"Well, actually," Chloe noted, "I spotted Lex playing tonsil hockey in the Building Barn's 'Bolts & Fasteners' aisle with some hot blonde interior designer, when I popped in to pick up a glue gun for the Torch office. I don't know what's more disturbing: Lex making out in the Building Barn, or Lex around dangerous power tools. I was out of there in a Metropolis Minute."

Alfred laughed mildly at Chloe's observation. "I fear Alexander's friendship with Bruce is at a crossroads. They will be compelled to make choices that will bind them together – or tear them apart forever." Chloe was about to probe further about Alfred's assessment of the Wayne-Luthor relationship, when Jonathan and Clark shivered down the steps of the farmhouse.

"Alfred, you are always welcome in our home," Jonathan declared, "and Mr. Wayne is lucky to have someone of your integrity by his side. Lex might see you as a manservant, but under my roof … you're one of our closest friends, and more."

"You have to try Mom's gingerbread cookies," Clark added. "I'll even make a pot of Earl Grey tea."

"Please come back to the party!" Chloe bleated. She was Alfred's 'Little Drummer Girl': the spy novel-inspired pet name he gave her during their secret quest to salvage Oliver Queen's empire. The butler relented, and a smile emerged from the corners of his mouth.

"I would be honoured to have Christmas dinner with you, Mr. Kent," said Alfred. Clark and Chloe embraced him, as the snow fell throughout the county.

They rejoined the party and shared cider, stories and many laughs that evening. For one night in Kansas, Bruce Wayne found a family he could call as his own. Clark had proven his loyalty on so many occasions (even in defiance of Lex's plans). The affection they showed for Alfred only cemented Bruce's belief that he could count on the Kents.

Chloe and Martha sang classic holiday carols in an impromptu performance for their guests, while Jonathan and Clark volunteered to clean up the dinner table.

"Level with me, Bruce," Lois said, cornering Bruce at the dessert tray. "Is that on-and-off fling with that Brazilian lingerie supermodel 'off' again, or what?"

"Lois!" Clark muttered to her under his breath.

"For the record, Lois," Bruce grinned. "She's from Costa Rica. And she dumped me this summer for an aging rock star."

"A rock star with a supermodel," Chloe quipped. "Somehow, that seems appropriate. At least they can go to rehab together." Lois stepped in front of her cousin and continued to flirt with Bruce. "Forget about the rock star," she said, "Did I mention that I'm unattached, B.W.?"

"So am I," Bruce winked playfully. "We have something in common." Clark wasn't sure if Bruce was joking with Lois, but he feared that Lois was more than Bruce could handle.

Alfred wistfully glanced at the music box and the young skaters inside. Martha set a cup of tea on the coffee table, and patted his shoulder. "You don't have to apologize for anything, Alfred. Our door is always open to you and Bruce." He stared intently at the pair of skating lovers inside the music box. It was cold outside, but in this house … fond memories of his true love and the Kents' camaraderie were comforting. Tomorrow could bring crisis and danger, but he gladly accepted tonight's brief respite from the madness.

"I should thank you, Mrs. Kent," Alfred beamed, "for allowing me to see Svetlana skate once more."

"Merry Christmas, Alfred," Chloe hugged her friend and gave him a peck on the cheek.

Bruce raised his mug of cider. "I propose a toast to the Kents. May the present be full of happiness, and may your future be full of promise. Cheers!" He sipped his drink tentatively, uncertain if his friendship with Lex Luthor was tattered beyond repair.

Clark smiled at the music box. He had so many doubts about his feelings for Lana, his college applications and his damaged relationship with Lex. Tonight, his concerns didn't matter to him because he was among friends and family. A little skater girl in a music box dared them to dream and hope for a better future. The party felt so right to him, and so human.

Clark climbed atop the stairs and watched the festivities from above. He picked up the phone and called.

"Lex?" Clark thought her heard a young woman giggling on the other line.

"Clark, you've got me at a bad time," Lex explained. "I'm completing a -- hmm … _business transaction_ … that requires my full attention. Make it quick." Clark heard more giggling and snickers.

"I just wanted to say –" Clark thought he heard some shoes fall onto the ground on the other line.

"I've got to go, Clark," Lex cut him off. "I can't talk right now." The call ended, and the dial tone was deafening.

Clark frowned and hung up the phone. A few years ago, Lex would have cleared his schedule to attend a Kent party. Now, it was inconvenient.

"Merry Christmas, Lex," he said quietly.

THE END


End file.
